


Take Me Home

by domini_moonbeam



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Explicit Language, Five Years Later, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-03-09 14:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18918979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domini_moonbeam/pseuds/domini_moonbeam
Summary: “You’re a dead man,” He Tian whispered grimly. “Because you thought he was a piece of ass I’d pay for and not someone I’d die for.”-All grown up, He Tian and Mo Guan Shan have been together for years. Mo is kidnapped and ransomed back to He Tian.No explicit rape scenes but a lot of dark aftermath. Neither of them die and this is still super romantic.





	1. Chapter 1

He Tian had had a lot of shitty days in his life, but this was the longest if not the worst. It _would_ become the worst, he was sure of it—it was just a question of how bad and if it would also be the last.

He walked into the dark warehouse, a small fleet of his brother’s goons with him. He stopped and waited, heart hammering in his ears but eyes set impassively—like it was just another boring day, like the love of his life hadn’t been abducted, like he hadn’t been sent that ransom video from one of He Cheng’s rivals.

He could still see the video against his eyelids when he closed his eyes. A dirty mattress on a concrete floor and his Little Mo barely conscious, one side of his face turning purple under layers of bruises, lip bleeding and arms tied behind his back. The man behind the camera told him to beg for He Tian to save him. Mo had smiled then, broken lip bleeding more for the grin but he didn’t seem to notice. _“You fucking idiots…”_ he mumbled, words sluggish. They must have drugged him. And then he’d laughed at them until they kicked him quiet.

That laugh was still echoing in He Tian’s ears, hours later. _Hours._

A door opened and closed and half a dozen men shuffled into the warehouse from the opposite end. The old mob boss and his son stopped just inside the light. The old man smiled at He Tian. “You brought the money?”

He Tian hummed once in affirmation but made no move to offer up the duffel bags one of the goons had carried in. “Where is he?”

The man laughed, like he’d forgotten about his captive, and gestured for one of his own thugs to run back. “You should be proud,” the man told He Tian and when he didn’t ask why, he continued. “I tried to get him to tell me about you and your brother. Just any old thing for starters. Just a little information. But he never cracked.”

He Tian didn’t respond. He didn’t care. He knew no one could make Mo do anything he didn’t want to. The doors opened and closed at the back of the room again and this time two thugs entered, hauling Mo Guan Shan between them.

“I’m not sure if we broke him…or if he was always insane,” the man admitted casually.

He Tian watched Mo the moment they dragged him into the light, his weight easily held between the two. His shirt was gone and his sweatpants hung on the curve of his hips. He was covered in filth, in blood and dirt and what looked like cum.

It took everything He Tian had not to react—to just look on like this was nothing. Like it didn’t send cold waves of fury crawling over his skin to see those hand-shaped bruises collaring Mo’s neck, cigarette burns and bruises pelting his sides, and the painfully obvious break in his left forearm.

They all stood tensely for a number of minutes, studying each other. But Mo didn’t look at He Tian. He didn’t look anywhere but at the ground, eyelids slow and blood dripping from his mouth.

“What happened to him?” He Tian finally asked.

The boss blinked, glancing at Mo and then at He Tian, as though it should be obvious—and then realizing that He Tian wasn’t looking at his boyfriend. He was looking at the boss’s son. The man was standing a little hunched and had limped into the room. He was sweating in pain and had started shifting nervously the second Mo was brought into the room.

“Oh,” the boss said, sounding painfully disappointed. “He made a mistake…”

The man winced under his father’s anger.

Mo growled— _actually growled_. And the man shot him a dark, hateful glare, hands moving to shield his junk from their beaten captive with a flinch. Mo’s lips pulled back and he snapped his teeth at the man—blood coated teeth. The thugs holding him gave him a jerk and a shake and he subsided again, the little smirk still at the corner of his mouth.

“I see,” He Tian said thoughtfully. They could have done any number of terrible things to Mo, but trying to stick a dick in his mouth would have been a very stupid one. “Do you mind if I ask a question?” the words sounded polite, but the tone was dark, churning like a storm inside him. “Why did you think you could snatch him up and pull this off?”

“What?”

“You thought you could steal from me and I’d pay and there would be no repercussions because... What? Because I’m the little brother? Because I seem to not be involved in the family business and just living my rich boy life with that fucker?” He pointed at Mo with his gloved fingers. The room flinched when he lifted his arm—even the old mob boss.

“Don’t make this worse, kid,” the man hissed. “You can either pay me and get him back in one piece, or I’ll have his brains blown out in front of you.”

“What makes you think I care about his brains?” He Tian took a step forward, head cocked to the side.

“Don’t fuck with me.” The boss matched his step, closer to the center, not one to look like he was afraid of some mob prince. “Everyone knows you’ve been shacked up with this redhead since high school. I _will_ kill him.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” He Tian’s voice had been rising and he took steps closer. One and then another. The goons behind him all standing like dark statues, endlessly patient. “After the video you sent me, I expect you would, because you’re a completely brainless shitbag.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” he yelled, stomping forward, drawn closer to He Tian to match all those macho moves, chest puffing out. “Do you know who I am?”

“You’re a dead man,” He Tian whispered grimly. “Because you thought he was a piece of ass I’d pay for and not someone I’d die for.” He moved suddenly, closing the space between them and wrapping his gloved fingers around the mobster’s fat neck. He jerked him forward and turned him around, holding him like a human shield. Shouting erupted on their side of the room, men shuffling back and forth and holding up guns.

He Tian’s side was still. Waiting for orders.

“Tell them to let him go… Or I’ll take you with me and do everything I imagine you’ve done to him.”

The mobster sputtered.

He Tian gave that fat neck a good squeeze, until the man had to open his mouth wide to suck at air, eyes bulging before he relaxed his grip. “I can snap your neck. I will do it,” He Tian whispered.

“Fuck. Fine!” The old man waved his hand and the thugs let go of Mo. He landed on his bare feet, wobbling once before rolling his shoulders and tipping his head back. He took a breath, like he’d been underwater until the moment they let him go, and then he walked forward one agonizing step at a time.

He Tian watched him, waiting until he was halfway across the room before signaling the goons he’d brought with him.

The doors on the other end opened up again, and more of his brother’s men poured in, blocking both exits now. He Cheng had thought this was a good opportunity to send a message and to clear some of his enemies off the board. He Tian might have cared, if they hadn’t taken Mo and sent him that video.

He Tian gave the mob boss’s neck another squeeze, the room around them breaking out into chaos as the two gangs fought. “You were wondering before if you broke him or if he was already insane,” he said almost kindly. He kicked him hard in the back of the leg, putting the old man on his knees and holding his head up so he could watch his men fall—could see the moment his son was killed. “No one breaks Mo.”

He gave him a shove and walked away.

Mo Guan Shan had already walked to He Tian’s car outside and gotten in the passenger seat. He didn’t say anything when He Tian got in beside him, turned the key and drove away from the sounds of gunfire and screaming.

He didn’t say anything on the ride to the hospital. He Tian’s family put money into this hospital, and it bought them few questions and no records. Still, he’d given Mo a hoodie from his gym bag in the trunk and pulled the hood up over his head. He didn’t seem to notice or care—but his Little Mo would usually care who saw him this messed up. He might care later.

The middle and index fingers of Mo’s left hand were broken. He’d barely flinched when they put them straight and wrapped them in gauze. He made a guttural scream when they set the bone in his forearm though. It was about the only sound he’d made so far. The doctor tried to ask him questions and he either didn’t answer or just shook his head.

He Tian watched it all.

The doctors wanted to do full scans of him and keep him overnight. As soon as they said it, Mo got up and started walking for the door.

He Tian thanked the doctors thinly and followed him out, catching up easily. Mo was limping, running on nothing but adrenaline and stubbornness now. “Guan Shan,” He Tian said his name softly, the one he rarely said.

“Take me home,” his redhead demanded, still filthy and barefoot, but with a bright white cast on his left arm.

He Tian nodded and walked him to the car. He fought the urge to pick him up and carry him. He hadn’t touched him yet, wasn’t sure if he should and decided to wait until they were home and Little Mo could scream or throw things if he wanted to. The calm was making him nervous. It was like he’d shut something off inside of himself.

They got home, to the apartment they’d been sharing since high school. Mo had never really moved in, not on any specific date, at some point he just stopped leaving. He handled the groceries and the cleaning and on the occasions when they were fighting—he tried to pay rent. He Tian had never told him how much the rent was and even at their worst points, never pointed out when Mo’s “half” was far from it. Even in their ugliest arguments, mostly in the early years, he’d never wanted to make Mo feel like he was mooching—because if he started that, the idea would never leave the redhead. And He Tian had never thought of Little Mo as a mooch. He made this place feel like home—he made it theirs.

He Tian hung up his jacket and watched Mo move straight for the hallway, padding barefoot to their bedroom. He’d go straight for the shower, he realized and then remembered he wasn’t supposed to shower with his cast.

He slipped out of his shoes and followed, pushing the bathroom door open before it could swing shut.

Mo was leaning forward against the counter, good hand down against the cold marble and eyes closed as he seemed to be catching his breath.

He Tian walked around him, turning on the water and plugging up the tub. “You breathing okay?” he asked. They hadn’t scanned his chest at the hospital. Mo hadn’t wanted to take off the hoodie for the doctors by then.

Mo nodded once and stood upright, eyeing the slowly filling bathtub and raising an eyebrow.

“No shower. You’ll fuck up the cast.”

Mo rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He Tian asked, keeping his voice low and even. He stood in front of him, pulling the zipper of the hoodie down.

“Don’t need to.”

He gently slid the fabric off his shoulders, touching his skin for the first time. He was cold and sweat sticky. Bruises and welts and…was that a bite mark on his shoulder?

“Okay. But you can if you want to,” he said, head dipping to the side as he looked over Mo’s ribs, nothing sticking out or sinking in. No especially nightmarish bruises. “You’re sure you’re breathing okay?” he asked again, gently touching his sides and watching for reaction. He didn’t jump or wince or wheeze. A part of him was just hugely relieved he hadn’t flinched away from his touch.

“Breathing fine,” the redhead sighed.

He Tian nodded and moved his hands lower, ignoring the patches of dried, clear fluids. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Mo’s sweatpants, already able to see the finger shaped bruises curling over his hipbones.

Mo hissed then and caught his wrist, stopping him.

He Tian looked at him, waiting.

He bared his teeth angrily. “What do you want?” Mo snapped.

He Tian waited, eyes narrowing because he wasn’t sure what Mo meant.

“They fucked me. Is that what you’re trying to figure out? You can just ask. They did.” He snapped out all the words in sharp, solid sentences. Like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t shaking. Like there weren’t tears burning behind his red rimmed eyes.

He Tian was quiet for a long time. “How many?”

“I don’t know,” Mo almost yelled, before mumbling, “I think I was drugged. And I passed out a few times. I don’t even know how long I was there.”

He Tian nodded once. “Seven hours and forty minutes.”

Mo shivered out a breath that turned into a dark laugh. “That’s all?”

He Tian waited.

Mo looked at a pointed on He Tian’s shirt, hand still holding tight to his wrist.

“Do you want me to take you back to the hospital?” He Tian asked, soft but serious.

“No,” the redhead said quickly. “No,” he muttered again and then sighed, letting go of He Tian’s wrist.

He Tian leaned in slowly, touching their foreheads together. He’d take him in tomorrow, to get tests and meds and antibiotics and whatever the fuck else he needed. He waited a few seconds, waited for Mo to take a few gulping breaths and then steady himself, nodding once and looking away.

He leaned back and carefully slid the filthy sweatpants down his hips and thighs and to the floor. He touched his hips, the skin jumping this time. Handprint bruises and welts. Someone had belted him. And… His breath came out of him and he squatted down, staring at the cigarette burns on his abused sex.

Mo swore, throat tight, and turned his head to look away, waiting.

He Tian stood up straight and scrubbed a hand over his face, in an effort to convince his brain not to imagine it, not to go crazy, not to cry like a fucking baby right now. “Mo…”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” his voice was tight.

He Tian nodded once and turned, turning off the water now that the tub was more than half filled.

Mo let out an audible sigh of relief and started toward it. He Tian caught his arm, stopping him and turning him toward the wall so he could get a look at the rest of him first.

Mo immediately jerked out of his reach and twisted to face him again, eyes a little wild.

He Tian had both hands up, waiting. “I’m going to take a look at you,” he explained.

Mo didn’t move, hands balled into fists.

He Tian shivered. “Do you not want me behind you because you don’t want me to see… Or because you’re afraid?”

That seemed to surprise his redhead, eyes darting from side to side as he tried to figure himself out and hands slowly uncurling.

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” He Tian asked, completely serious. He needed to know what was happening in his head right now.

“No,” Mo answered, quick and honest.

He Tian sighed, almost sick with relief. “Do you still trust me?”

“Of course.” No hesitation.

“Then turn the fuck around, so I can see how bad things are, and then you can soak in the tub all damn night if you want.” There was no malice in his words, in fact, it was his usual tone—the first time he’d used it since before Mo disappeared.

The redhead exhaled and his shoulders relaxed, like he was relieved to hear it. If He Tian had known, he would have tried to use it earlier. He would have tried anything.

Mo dragged his good hand over the side of his head, clawing at his scalp before nodding once and turning slowly. “I didn’t make it easy for them,” he said, like he needed it to be known—like He Tian would have thought poorly of him if he hadn’t fought tooth and nail. He put his good hand to the wall and leaned forward a little, legs spread.

He Tian shivered, mouth pulling in a silent snarl when Mo couldn’t see it—couldn’t misinterpret it. His whole back was bruised. More cigarette burns down his spine. “You know these burns are going to hurt more when you get in that tub… You could wait until the water gets cool.” He suggested, tone carefully even again.

Mo tensed and He Tian realized it was the tone. It was too cold. Too careful.

“Did you really bite that guy’s dick?” He Tian asked, grinning wolfishly and ghosting his hands carefully down Mo’s sides.

He relaxed with a huffed laugh. “Yeah. Fuckin idiot. Like I was going to suck it…”

He Tian laughed darkly. “Did you see how he flinched when you growled at him?” He crouched down silently, hands gently parting Mo’s ass. The redhead tensed, the muscles in his thighs jumping, but he stayed where he was.

“Nah. I didn’t see him. Did he really flinch?”

He Tian gently touched the crusted blood, examining him as best he could. He wasn’t bleeding anymore. He stood up kissed the redhead’s shoulder. “He covered his junk, like you might attack again,” he whispered with a cruel smile, eyes a little teary.

Mo pretended not to notice. “Am I good to bathe now, doc?” he asked.

He Tian nodded. Mo refused to be helped into the tub.

“Don’t get your cast wet.”

“Mhm…” He sounded tired, sinking down into the water and leaving that one busted arm up and over the edge, head ducking under for a long minute before he came back up. The water was already cloudy.

He Tian leaned against the wall, watching him scrub at his skin. “Want help?”

“No,” Mo said, voice hollow and far away again. “Can I just be alone for a while?”

He Tian winced but nodded slowly. “Of course.”

He looked up before He Tian could move, staring at him. “I knew you’d come get me,” Guan Shan said, a small confession just between them. “I knew you’d make them pay. I’ll be fine.”

He Tian stared back at him for a long moment before taking a deep breath and nodding. “Okay.” He went to the bathroom cabinets and started pulling thing out, dumping them into a basket. All the medications, razors, even the cleaning products under the sink.

“The fuck are you doing?” Mo asked, sounding blessedly more like himself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, asshole, but I’m not leaving you alone in here with this stuff.”

“The fuck do you think I’m going to do with the tweezers?”

“You’re a creative man,” He Tian shrugged, stopping on his way out the door to look back at him, smiling a little. “And if you close this door, I’ll knock it off the hinges.”

Mo flipped him off and leaned back into the water. “Please, you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I’d drag you back from hell if you tried.”


	2. Liar Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated any of my fics in a while! I had a long vacation followed by a loss in the family. So, now I'm away from home to be with family. Thank you all for your patience with my fics! I have plans for all of them to continue, it's just an issue of time right now. Your comments have meant so much to me and given me so much confidence with my writing. You're amazing! Thank you for reading!

He’d bathed until the water went cold, dragged himself out and then staggered his way to the living room like the living dead. He Tian hadn’t known what to do—what to say. He couldn’t tell him to go to bed. He couldn’t tell him where to sleep. He could only pray that he did sleep and that when he woke up he might be more himself.

He fell asleep on the couch that night, for a few hours anyway, and He Tian had sat there beside him—less than an inch between them but not closing the gap. He Tian hadn’t slept a wink during those hours, tortured by every wince and unsteady breath in his redhead.

They had sent him the recording when they abducted Mo earlier that day. Just a day. A day that promised to be the worst of their lives. He Tian had watched the whole thing, twice over, and pushed all his feelings down deep because the only thing that had mattered then was getting Mo back alive—followed by killing the guy that took him and every other son of a bitch present.

But now, after Mo was home and their enemies were dead, and the apartment had gone quiet but for the hum of the tv and the tortured breaths of his boyfriend—He Tian couldn’t help but feel everything he hadn’t before. The recording had only been a minute long, every second dragged out terror. They’d filmed Mo, already roughed up and tied up and drugged up. They’d dumped him on a dirty mattress in a warehouse, held his face up for the camera as proof of life and promise of pain. His pupils had been blown wide by whatever drug they’d given him and all He Tian could do was hope it would numb the pain and maybe even make him forget everything. A strong hand reached into the shot and pulled Mo face down onto the mattress. His redhead cussed and threatened even when he had no weight to his words—no leverage at all. He promised death, venom in his words even when he was high as a kite and terrified—because he meant it. He believed it. He Tian had felt it, had known that he would hunt each one of these men down and kill them even if Mo was already dead when he got to him, because Mo had promised it.

They hadn’t filmed what happened between that first minute and when He Tian finally met them in the warehouse to make the trade. They hadn’t filmed the rest of the beating, the part where they stripped him down and raped him and burned him and broke his arm.

“Liar…” Mo whispered.

He Tian studied his bruised face in the glow of the TV.

“Liar,” Mo choked on the word, lashes wet with tears.

He Tian reached out to him, hand hovering over his chest, staring at that splotchy red and blue skin—all bruises and welts. What if he touched him and it hurt him? What if he tried to wake him from a nightmare and that touch just became apart of it? “MoMo?” he said, relieved to find his voice still solid, still certain.

Mo twitched, closing that space between them, his shoulder brushing against He Tian’s chest and the moment it did—the moment that weight leaned against him—Mo woke up. He Tian felt it, heard it in his still rushed breathing and when Mo opened his eyes, the tears gathering in his lashes rolled down bruised cheeks. “He Tian?”

“Yeah,” he answered a whisper with a whisper.

Mo sighed and the tightly spun muscles of his aching body relaxed again, still leaned into He Tian’s side. “Where are we?”

“Home,” he promised.

“How long?”

He Tian wasn’t sure if he meant how long they had been home, how long he had slept, or how long he had been held captive. “You’ve been asleep for a few hours. It’s morning outside.” Not that it mattered what it was outside.

Mo nodded once, the tv glow glittering in his eyes as he stared blankly into it. “Was I talking?”

He Tian balled his fists to keep from touching him, from grabbing him up and pulling him into his lap. Damn it. Why couldn’t he just do it? Because he didn’t know if it was welcome. Because it would hurt them both if Mo had to flinch away from him. “You were calling someone a liar.”

Mo looked up at him then, confused for a second before a wolfish smile pulled at his scabbed lips. “Oh.” He looked like he might laugh, tears still in his eyes.

He Tian wasn’t going to ask for an explanation, though he wanted it—wanted to know everything just as much as he didn’t want to know it.

“That fucker kept asking me questions at first,” Mo said, dropping his head back against the cushions of the couch, bruises collaring his long neck. He Tian watched him in the dark, studying every finger length bruise, silently grateful his Red was talking—telling him anything. A part of him had been so terrified Mo would just stop talking, stop being angry, stop being anything. He could do that, He Tian was sure. He could internalize like a fucking pro. He could disappear into himself, let it all eat him up until He Tian could only watch a shell and miss the living wild star that had ruled his whole adult life.

Mo closed his eyes, like he might go to sleep again. “It was dumb questions at first, like where you went to school, where you go to the gym, what sort of places you like to go…” he mumbled. “Classic shit. Like if I answered some easy questions I’d soon give him the security code to the family house or some shit.”

He Tian wasn’t sure what to say, tears in his own eyes. Mo wouldn’t have answered. He’d probably have said shitty little things to make himself laugh and piss everyone else off more.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Mo said and He Tian almost jumped, because there was a note of panic in his voice—like he was afraid He Tian would doubt him. He hadn’t heard that tone in years—not since they were in school and Mo was constantly waiting for He Tian to get over him and kick him out.

“I know,” He Tian said, cringing at how his redhead sighed and relaxed a little, on the verge of sleep again but relieved to be believed. He should never have doubted it.

His mouth quirked in that smile again. “That shitface gave up on the questions eventually and started saying I’d done a good job of keeping my secrets… He said you paid them to snatch me up and beat me and fuck me to see if I’d give up your secrets.”

He Tian felt cold. He sat impossibly still, staring at the love of his life. His mind raced to catch up, to imagine it. One of those tears in his eye slid over, down his cheek and off his chin and He Tian didn’t even notice. “Mo—”

“I was pretty fucked up by then,” Mo explained, voice low but wobbling just a little. His eyes were still closed and He Tian wondered now if it was because he was tired or because he didn’t want to look at him. He’d been drugged and tortured. It wasn’t impossible he’d believed it. At some point, a person could be made to believe anything. What would that do to them? The shadow of something like that? A moment that would stain ever brick of trust He Tian had laid over the years. “But I remember that pretty clearly.”

“Mo—” He Tian tried again, voice choking in his throat.

“I laughed so hard I almost stopped breathing for a while,” Mo said, eyes opening to look sideways at He Tian in the dim room. “I thanked that asshole for the laugh. I might have been fucked up, but I’m not stupid.”

He Tian exhaled like he’d been underwater.

Mo smiled at him. “I knew you’d find me… or whatever was left of me.”

He Tian winced, despite the relief and the pride, because it could have easily gone that way. It could have been so much worse than it was. His redhead could have been dead, a body, or just gone forever, leaving He Tian always looking.

“I knew you’d kill them,” Mo added, voice lower as sleep pulled at him again. “They are dead, aren’t they? I remember that… It wasn’t a dream?” he whispered, panic edging into his voice.

“They’re dead,” He Tian confirmed quickly. “That wasn’t a dream.”

Mo nodded and for a second was quiet, drifting, and then his eyes cracked open again. “You’ve never lied to me, have you?” he asked, seeming to realize it just then, thinking back over his life.

“No,” He Tian promised. “They’re dead,” he said again, in case that was what Mo was worried about.

“Are _we_ dead?” Mo asked, head turning a little to look at He Tian. “You’re not touching me,” he added before He Tian could ask what he was talking about. “I know you’re not going to kick me out or something. I know you love me.”

He Tian almost lost his breath at that. Mo rarely said this much unless he was ranting, and certainly never like this—not emotional and gentle. He had never admitted he knew He Tian loved him before.

“You’ve always been straight forward with me,” Mo continued. “You should tell me when this is done.”

He Tian smiled, tears sliding off his eyes, and gently cupped one side of his redhead’s battered face, leaning his forehead gently to his. “You stupid shit. We’re never going to be done. Not even when we’re in the ground. I’ll find you or you’ll find me.”

Mo sighed, from someplace deep down. “Don’t be romantic. Be realistic.”

“Hm...” He Tian pulled Mo slowly, carefully into his lap just like he’d wanted to do before, his soul reveling in how the redhead didn’t jump or tense.

“I’d never slept with anyone else,” Mo whispered.

He Tian’s lips curled in a snarl, happy his face was so close to Mo’s that even if his eyes were open he wouldn’t see it. “It’s not like you cheated,” he reminded darkly. And even if he had, it would have been drama for years but it wouldn’t have ended them. He Tian couldn’t imagine his life without Mo. No matter how bad the hypothetical, no matter how toxic they might become, he wanted them to be together.

“I might have something,” Mo said quietly, barely more than a whisper, but the words tight in his chest. “Pretty sure no one wore a condom…” he mumbled bluntly.

He Tian gently dragged his fingers along Mo’s scalp, the way he did sometimes at night to lull the other into sleep. “We’ll go to the doctor today. Whatever happens it isn’t going to end us.”

Mo was relaxing against his chest, drifting lower and lower toward sleep. “Don’t lie…”

“Never to you,” He Tian promised in a whisper against his cheek. He was quiet for a long string of seconds, breath evening out. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Mo’s body jolted a little before relaxing again. “No. Let me sleep here.”

He Tian nodded, reaching out with one long arm to snag a blanked off the back of the couch and pulled it over them. With Mo in his arms, he fell asleep on the couch too, in the flickering glow of the tv.


End file.
